


power over me

by diminishedmercury



Series: Kinktober 2018 [4]
Category: SMITE (Video Game)
Genre: Bellona has many of them, Cu Chulainn is just a puppy who loves her, F/M, Soft feelings, let them be in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-13 20:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminishedmercury/pseuds/diminishedmercury
Summary: She has watched him conquer and prevail for many years- he is not born of her pantheon, but there is something undeniable in the strength of the mighty Sétanta. She watched, enamored by his victories. She could not tell you why she was so transfixed by a man not of her own birthright. She just knew that there was something special about this individual. And so, she continued to watch over him and his feats, unknowingly granting him strength that should not have been his own. Perhaps it was this that allowed him to fend off an entire army on his own at seventeen or perhaps it was the divine blood that flowed within his veins, bestowed upon him at conception by way of who his father was; it did not matter. Sétanta was a force to be reckoned with. An impenetrable wall, a ferocious berseker.





	power over me

She has watched him conquer and prevail for many years- he is not born of her pantheon, but there is something undeniable in the strength of the mighty Sétanta. She watched, enamored by his victories. She could not tell you why she was so transfixed by a man not of her own birthright. She just knew that there was something  _special_ about this individual. And so, she continued to watch over him and his feats, unknowingly granting him strength that should not have been his own. Perhaps it was this that allowed him to fend off an entire army on his own at seventeen or perhaps it was the divine blood that flowed within his veins, bestowed upon him at conception by way of who his father was; it did not matter. Sétanta was a force to be reckoned with. An impenetrable wall, a ferocious berseker.

She watched the day he was given the name Cú Chulainn, fear bubbling within her chest for reasons that she finds inexplicable. She did not want him to die, least of all at the hands of a dog. She is ashamed to admit to the amount of relief that flooded her body when Sétanta, now Cú Chulainn, slew the beast with the strength of a God rather than a man. She almost screams in rage at the insolence of these petty mortals- Sétanta is a warrior, he is a hero, he is not to be chained to Ulster like a dog. But he is not of her pantheon and she has no say in this presiding. So, she watches.

She feels shame, again, when she feels a burning jealousy rear its ugly head. She should not care that Cú Chulainn has taken a woman to his bed, she should not care that he is in love with someone that is not her, but she cannot contain the rage within her. That day, her wrath is felt on the battlegrounds. No other God or Goddess is able to look her in the eye, and none ask her what has managed to provoke such a reaction in her. She carries this jealousy with her for many long days. The Goddess of war has never been known to be a forgiving woman, so what does it matter that she holds a grudge against these women not even of her pantheon? It doesn't, she decides. It allowed her to fight just that much harder after all. But, it is not her place to make an appearance and so she quietly continues to watch over his endeavors. _How much longer_ , she thinks, _will I have to wait?_

She sees his pain, watches him laugh as a man, grow as a man. She mourns with her beloved hero when he loses his son to his own hands. Too young, she thinks, he is too young to be dead, but there he lay, barbed spear lodged in his chest. It is not much, but she makes her presence known to him after that. She never reveals herself, doesn't appear to him in an apparition, but she can at least let him know that he is not alone. Never alone. It seems to bring comfort to him and that is all that she can ask for. She desperately hopes for her blessings to be enough.

The day that Cú Chulainn is slain, Bellona is thrown into a rage unlike any that she has felt before. She is angry that she was not allowed to protect her human, she is angry that such cowardice was used to slay him, she is angry that none of the Celtic pantheon cared to put a stop to the ambush. The Morrigan and Cernunnos feel her wrath more than any of the other Gods, whether they are friend or foe, and many learn to steer clear of the Roman warrior. The days drag on for Bellona after that, her routine broken. She can no longer watch Cú Chulainn reign victorious.

Joy.

Joy is the first feeling to spark in her when it is announced that  _Cú Chulainn_ will be the newest God to be joining the battleground. She waits, impatiently, for him to appear in the Celtic pantheon, waits for him to join her in the warrior class. When he arrives, he is just as she remembers him. Adorable, really, she thinks as she watches him stumble his way through meeting the rest of the warriors. He's met his new family, his new friends and foes, when he finally approaches her.

He hums when he's stopped in front of her. "I know you," she feels her heart beat a little faster in her chest.  _Does he?_

"Do you now?" Her voice is steadier than she feels right now.

"Thanks," is what he says, doesn't elaborate on what he means. She curses her luck- she needs to know. She needs to know if he remembers her at all. She needs to know if there will be a place for her in this new life of his.

"I- what did you mean? That you know me. Surely we haven't met."

He's quiet and she doesn't remember this about him. He was impulsive and brash and beautiful. She does not remember him being this pensive. "Dumb is not a good look on ya." Oh.  _Oh._ That's how he wanted this to be?

"Well, call me Bellona. We'll see more of each other, I'm sure." She huffs out and then she's leaving to join the others in the Roman pantheon, her cheeks hot in color.

* * *

She doesn't know how they've gotten to this point. They've grown closer on the battlegrounds and Cú Chulainn has become something of a puppy around her. He's adorable, trailing behind her as if she may bite him (and she would, given the opportunity, but perhaps more in pleasure than any real malevolence). But she's not sure when he started having  _feelings_ for her. She knows she's held them for a long time- longer than she would like to admit to. Routine dictates that she allow him to patch up her wounds from the fight and that he allow for her to do the same. Routine dictates that he allow for her to calm him down after a particularly brutal fight, his rage building to a point that he is almost unrecognizable.

It was a bad fight today. They had been pitted against each other and he had been anything but gentle with her. They had both beaten and bruised one another, but she had witnessed his transformation at least a half dozen times in this match up and she wasn't even in his lane for the entire fight. She doesn't know how much rage he was forced to build and use, but it was too much and she wasn't sure how she was meant to calm him. Most days, she could simply sit with him in one of their private quarters and tell tales of fallen warriors and their triumphs and great legacies. He seems to always enjoy the stories about Achilles (even more so when he joined the battlegrounds and became one of Cú Chulainn's closest companions), but now, there's nothing she can do.

At least, she'd thought there wasn't, until there were warm arms wrapped around her body and pulling her closer. There was armor in the way and the angle was awkward and she wasn't sure what to do with her arms, but they managed what could be counted as a hug. "Please," He'd breathed, accent heavy on his tongue. She's not sure what he's asking for, but she pulls away for a moment to strip herself of her armor and help Cú Chulainn rid himself of his own. Now, in nothing but her underclothes, she pulls him to his bed and embraces him. He's warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant in her grasp. He moves into the touch when she runs her fingers through his hair, squeezes her waist just a bit tighter when he thinks she's going to move away, closes his eyes and lays his head down on her chest. It's horribly soft and domestic and it's something that she really shouldn't enjoy so much, but she does. She pets his hair with a quiet coo of affection, her hand catching on the braid that decorates his golden hair. Somehow, the braid finds its way to be unraveled while he simply breathes against her skin, slowly coming down from the rage that suffocates him. She makes a pleased sound when he's finally decided to peel himself away from her chest to look up at her, bright blue eyes full of gratitude and something much softer that throws her for a loop and pushes all of the air she'd had in her lungs from her body.

She wants to love him, she thinks. She wants to love him in this domestic bliss they've created (it's only temporary but she longs to have the mortal life with him that she's spent more nights that she'd like to admit dreaming about) and she wants to make love and grow a family and- it's too much all at once and it must show on her face.

"Would ya like me to move?" He's sweet, caring about her comfort when he still desperately needs this. She shakes her head before bowing down to press a kiss to the top of his hair. Somehow, they end up face to face, his arms holding him above her, and suddenly it's as if a dam that had been built between them comes crashing down. She moans into the kiss, clinging desperately to strong shoulders. The mood shifts from domestic bliss to something fiery that licks at the insides of her heart. He pulls away to breathe against her lips a simple, "is this alright?" and she wants to scream because it's  _more_ than alright and now all she can think about is having him inside of her and being connected so intimately and she might go crazy if he just stops  _here._

"Can you just shut up and fuck me, Cú Chulainn?" She snarks and that seems to be all he needs. She's pushed back to the furs that cover the bed and he's kissing down her body, ignoring the cloth that keeps her covered. "I don't think this is what I asked for-" She cuts herself off on a high pitched yelp ( _horribly_ unbecoming for her) and bucks her hips up when he bites at the inside of her thigh with a smug look up at her. She covers her face because it's suddenly too hot and that really shouldn't be such a turn on, it was just a _smirk_ for crying out loud! But it is and she can't contain her sounds when he does pull away her underclothes and licks a stripe up her sex. His tongue is warm and wet and so good and clearly he's had practice on  _someone_ (she's a little sad that it's not her). He's making broad swipes across her clit, adding suction and the barest hint of teeth. It has her legs shaking and her thighs tightening around his head. He seems to appreciate that, if the pleased hum he lets out is any indication. He's going to make her cum like this, she realizes, his tongue pushed hot and wet inside of her, opening her up for him. She pushes her hips back onto his face, rides him for all he's worth and clenches around the muscle that's still working her over. He pulls back right when she thinks she's about to orgasm and makes an offended noise before he's shoving a finger into her with no real preamble, fucking into her rough and dirty and she  _loves it_.

"So eager," He chuckles and fuuuck, she loves how deep and husky his voice is as he makes his way back up her body. A calloused hand finds its way to pinch and pull at one of her nipples before pulling off the wrappings she'd used to keep her breasts in check during battle before his lips latch on to the other, another finger being added to the wet mess between her legs and opening her up wider. She wants this, she wants this, she wants this. She wants it so badly and she can't decide if she wants to push her hips down onto the fingers fucking into her or if she wants to push her tits up into the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Fucking- more!" She's being demanding now.

"Hush now, lassie," his voice is still dark with sin as he pulls his fingers free from her pussy, laughing in bemusement. She's ready to hit him if he doesn't fuck her now, but she doesn't have to wait long. He's got her thighs in his hand now, standing on his knees with her hips tilted up into the air. "I'll take care of ya." She doesn't know when she developed a kink for his voice, but fuck if it doesn't  _do_ things to her. One hand leaves her leg to peel away the last bit of clothing on either of them and then he's taking himself into hand (he's big and hard and she wants it in her right the fuck now) to push inside of her. They both groan as he bottoms out. His hands are back to holding her legs up again and she locks her ankles around his midsection as he starts to thrust in and out. It's good, but it's not enough, she needs more, needs it harder, needs it faster.

She drags her nails down his back, looking up at him with all the heat of passion in her eyes. "If you're gonna fuck me," she starts, accentuating her words with a hard roll of her hips down onto his cock, "then  _fuck me,_ " she finishes in a growl.

"Just remember that ya asked for it." That's all the warning she gets before he's dropping his weight down over her body and picks up the pace, angling his hips with powerful thrusts into her body. It's so good and still not enough and then he's biting at her shoulder, sucking bruises into her neck, hands leaving deep red imprints on her hips from the sheer force of his grip. He's not satisfied with the position and before she knows it, she's ass up and face down, a hand curled tight in her hair and pushing her down into the fur. "Harder?" He asks. She moans loudly as he finds her g-spot and  _of course_ he fucks her deeper, harder, faster, a hand crashing down onto the side of her ass to leave a stinging mark. She tightens around him when he does again and again, takes the punishment because it's so incredibly good and she wants even more, greedy for all of his attention.

It goes by in a blur of sweat, moans, and bites. She's certain there will be bruises for all of the Gods to see after this but she doesn't  _care_ , would rather them  _know_ that he is hers (she's seen the looks the others give him when he's not paying attention), and she moans in satisfied pleasure when she finally reaches her peak, clenching around the hot length inside of her.  He lets out one last possessive growl before he pulls out and spills across her back, hot and sticky liquid making its home there. She's content now, body humming from the pleasure and sensations.

There's a moment in time that lulls by, one of his hands resting on her hip and the other planted by her head and holding him up from crushing her. "That was," she licks her lips, finding her voice again.

"Intense?" He teases, finally broken from his spell and huffing as he drops to her side, pulling her into his side. She shifts enough to sling an arm across his chest, making a small face at the cooling sweat that clings to him (and her).

"Incredible," she amends. He laughs, pleased with the response and closes his eyes. "Are you going to  _sleep_?" 

"Yep."

"... Should I...?" leave is left unsaid.

"Nope."

And so, she stays.


End file.
